


Memories

by songofhell



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 18:25:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19874074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songofhell/pseuds/songofhell
Summary: For Round 25 of the Rare Ship Creations ChallengePrompt: The Open RoadDean has too much going on in his head and he just needs to get away from it all, but a certain demon won’t let him be.





	Memories

Dean wasn’t sure where he was going exactly. He just knew that he needed to clear his head. To think, even though those two things sounded contradictory.

Sam had been asleep when he’d left he bunker. He probably should’ve been asleep too, but after laying there for over an hour, unable to close his eyes because whenever he did he was reminded of all that he had lost, he decided to seek out the best remedy he knew – the open road. There was a sort of clarity it brought him. Just him in the Impala, the road spilling out before him. It was the one time that it didn’t matter where he was going. There was no one to save, no obligation, no expectations, he just had to follow the road wherever it took him. And wherever that place was, it was guaranteed to be better than what he had left behind.

“Running away from your problems again, squirrel?”

Dean kept his eyes trained straight ahead, ignoring the figure of the demon that had materialized beside him. Maybe if he ignored him…

“You have to know it won’t do you any good,” Crowley continued.

“Go away,” he muttered through gritted teeth.

“Is that really what you want?” he asked skeptically.

Dean didn’t reply.

“Thought not,” he chuckled. “That’s one of the things I like about you. You put on your little tough-guy act, but anyone who knows you can see what’s really going on in that head of yours. You’re an open book.”

“Am not,” he protested, even though he knew it was useless to do so.

“Oh, please. Right now, you are drowning in your most recent loss, and you are absolutely _desperate_ for my company. Care to object?”

“If I do, will you leave me alone?”

“Of course. So long as it’s the truth,” he added with a knowing smile.

Dean looked over at him and sighed. “So, what? I’m just stuck with you forever, then?” he demanded, knowing that it would be pointless to lie.

“Aw. Are you saying that you’re always desperate for my company?”

He glared at him. “Right now, the only thing I’m desperate for is some fucking peace and quiet.”

“Then why won’t you let yourself have it?” he challenged.

He turned away, focusing once again on the road ahead of him. He wanted to be mad or even indignant, but he knew that the only person he had a right to be so with was himself. And he was mad at himself, but it wasn’t exactly like that was anything new.

“You can’t lie to me, darling,” Crowley said victoriously. “Peace and quiet means that you’re alone with nothing but your own thoughts, and we all know how that song goes.”

“Not if I’m driving. Then I’ve got the road to focus on. Keeps me distracted without all the annoyance.”

“And how’s that going for you?”

Right again. Dean shook his head as though doing so would rattle his thoughts enough so that he was no longer drowning in them. It didn’t work. The pain and grief of loss was still bearing down on him. His slammed his foot down on the gas pedal as though he could accelerate away from it all.

“Where are we going, anyway?” Crowley asked after a minute of letting him stew.

“Nowhere,” he answered shortly.

“Hmm,” he hummed thoughtfully. “Remember the last time we got in this car and just drove to see where we ended up?”

Dean’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel. He remembered alright. Remembered taking off, not a care in the world. Remembered stopping at every dive bar they came across and not having to worry about moving on until he became bored with a place. He remembered the months filled with fighting, fucking, and far more alcohol than a human being would be able to consume. And he remembered Crowley being at his side through all of it. It had been a life without consequences, without guilt – at least until that had all come crashing back down on him with the force of 1,000 archangels. “Yeah,” he said gruffly.

“The good ol’ days.” He looked over at him with a smile.

“Not sure I’d call ‘em good,” he argued stiffly.

“But you miss it. The fun, the lack of responsibility, quality time with yours truly.”

“Yeah, but that wasn’t all there was to it,” he sighed, glancing over at the demon and then away again. “It wasn’t… I wouldn’t go back, even if I could.”

“Oh, I know that. You can miss the symptoms without liking the cause. It’s nothing to feel guilty about.”

“I killed someone, Crowley,” he snapped. “And that’s not even touching on all the other shit I’m never gonna be able to wash clean.”

“Again, I didn’t say it was all good. I turned you over to your brother for a reason, after all.”

“Yeah, because I wouldn’t listen to you,” he scoffed. “Real noble.”

“You know that’s not all it was.” His voice was no longer lighthearted. It seemed to echo in the car with an implication that Dean didn’t want to hear.

“Well, it’s in the past,” he sighed, forcing himself to relax his grip slightly.

“You learned nothing from being a demon, did you?” Crowley demanded.

“What was there to _learn?”_ he shot back incredulously.

“That you need to take better care of yourself. Maybe you wouldn’t have gone so far off the deep end if you hadn’t spent your life depriving yourself.”

“Or maybe I would have because I had become a _demon,”_ he said exasperatedly.

“Oh, of course, I forgot. You’ve never met a single demon who has any redeemable qualities. Who has a handle over their nature and can even help people, given the right motivation.”

He shook his head. “That’s not-”

“Because to you demons are all just heartless monsters who don’t care about anything but destruction,” he plowed on. “And I’m no better than the rest of them.”

He swallowed thickly, guilt twisting his stomach into knots. “That’s not true.”

“No? That’s how you always treated me. Oh sure, you’ll humor me so long as I’m useful, but that’s only assuming you have no other options. When it comes down to actually considering me a part of the team? Or heaven forbid, actually treating me with respect? Even when I’m offering you my help, it’s like pulling teeth. And yet, time and time again I’ve come to your aid, put my own life on the line for you, even though we all know you’d never return the favor. Because you’re _so much_ better than me.”

“It’s not like that!” he protested. “I never knew when I could trust you or when you’d end up stabbing us in the back!”

“Now that’s a lie. You’ve known for some time now that I would never actually harm you. Or even stand by while someone else did so, if there was the slightest chance that I could prevent it.”

“Yeah, but it’s one thing to know that and another to be able to accept it. I mean, trusting a demon doesn’t exactly come easily to me.”

“Of course not. So rather than break the status quo…” He trailed off, a layer of sympathy sliding over the pain in his eyes without completely managing to obstruct it. “I get it, Dean, really. Anything but hatred towards me is out of your comfort zone. And why make yourself uncomfortable for the sake of one demon? Doesn’t matter what I’ve done – no demon’s worth that, right?”

Dean was silent. What could he say? Crowley was one hundred percent right. He had never treated him fairly, all because it would make him uncomfortable to do so. He had to hate him, had to set those boundaries, because the alternative… he just didn’t know how to come to grips with it. Except that he didn’t hate him. And that alternative was staring him in the face and he didn’t know what he was supposed to do with it.

They were silent for the next few miles. He could still see Crowley in his peripheral vision – mostly looking out the window, but occasionally looking at him – but they had crossed over the state line before he spoke again. “You can’t run from it, you know.”

He gave a humorless laugh. “And what do you think I’m running from, Crowley?”

He didn’t answer. “How many is it now?” he asked instead.

Dean didn’t need to ask for clarification, he knew exactly what he was asking. _How many people have you lost? How many of your friends, family, people you were responsible for have died? How many have you failed to save?_ “Too many,” he answered, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You’d think you’d be used to it by now.”

He didn’t feel like humoring him with a response.

“I’m surprised at your reaction, honestly,” Crowley continued. “Given everything…. Why?” He looked over at him, his expression open and curious.

He shook his head. “You know why.”

“Don’t I deserve to hear it?”

Dean slammed on the breaks. He didn’t even take a second to see where he was before he got out of the car and slammed the door behind him. He was in the middle of a crossroads. How fitting.

He took a few deep breaths, trying and failing to calm himself down, before he spun around to see Crowley standing right behind him. Of course he was. He always was these days. “Because I loved you, Crowley,” he said, his voice breaking. A tear slid down his cheek and he squeezed his eyes shut to stop the flow. There, he’d finally admitted it. Not that it mattered at this point. It was too little too late.

He imagined that he felt the brush of lips against his and he opened his eyes. But of course there was no one there. There never had been. Crowley was dead, and he was alone with nothing but a memory.


End file.
